


You've Got Mail

by Etched_in_Fire



Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [26]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Banter, Crude Humor, Fluff, Fox x Krystal is there but it's not the fic's focus, Gen, Pre-Star Fox Command, Sexual Themes, brief nudity, friendship fluff, post-Star Fox Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: 9 ALW -- Falco introduces Krystal to the concept of "fan mail".





	You've Got Mail

**Author's Note:**

> Don't drink and write fanfics, kids.

            After the assault on the Aparoid Homeworld, it had been hard to get even a moment’s rest.  Several weeks of helping the reconstruction process on Corneria had left them in a weird mental state to say the least.  Though the final fight with the Aparoid Queen was still fresh in memory, lingering around the capital hub of the Cornerian Empire had left them feeling a tad out of their element.  Fox had not gotten used to staying in one place for so long.  He was relieved when General Pepper had suggested to them to go seek out the others of the Lylat System who might need their help in the wake of the invasion.  Fox had not needed to be told twice and later that day, the team boarded their new mothership, the not-so-inventively named Great Fox II.  He had ROB set their destination for Sauria, as it had sustained heavy losses as well.  The Cornerian Army had set up shop there to help with the recovery process but Fox was certain Tricky would not mind seeing a friendly face or two.

            Peppy had not been keen on leaving but his protests had quietened after some light debate.  Fox knew he was concerned about the reconstruction efforts, but in their meetings with General Pepper, the hare betrayed himself.  There was evident worry in the veteran’s sanguine eyes as he eyed the beaten and battered general, who was still very much recovering from his aparoid possession.  Though General Pepper and his doctors reassured them all he was fit to be out of the hospital, Fox admitted that he too had his silent worries but for Peppy’s sake, he did not dare voice them.

            Instead, Fox did all he could to stave off his building anxiety and restlessness.  While Peppy, ROB, and a rebooting Direct-i held the fort down in the Great Fox II’s bridge, Fox did his rounds to inspect everything about their new home.  He had started with the engine room, realizing after a few moments that their new mothership had upgrades to it that he was not even familiar with.  When he gave up, he did it with a slight sulk, feeling as though the years had somehow made him stupider. 

_I hope Slippy knows how these things work because I feel pretty much useless when it comes to this thing.  All I know about it is that it put an even bigger dent into my wallet… Almost all our funds we received for helping with the aparoids went to buying this thing.  And I’m still paying off Dad’s debt on the original Great Fox.  Ugh…_

            As he glumly wandered down the hallway, voices caught his ear.  From the sleek white and silver corridor of the refurbished carrier, the vulpine emerged with a curious, prying gaze that fell upon Krystal and Falco sitting in the new lounge.  They were seated at their dinner table, laughing and sharing a bowl of extra buttery popcorn between them.  Boxes that they should have been unpacking sat untouched all around them.  Krystal had a glass of water in front of her and Falco had a Cornerian cola—cased into a retro-style glass bottle with a red and white striped straw protruding from its top. 

            “And there he was standing butt naked and— ” The avian seemed to notice their fearless leader then.  “Oh, heyo, Fox, how’s it going?” He crossed one scrawny leg over the other, sipping his cola with a wry smirk engraved upon his beak. 

            “Do I even wanna know?” Fox remarked sourly.  He leaned against the metallic doorframe leading into the lounge. 

            “Heh, probably not,” Falco shrugged.  “Just regalin’ a story from the Good Old Days.”

            “ ‘Good Old Days’?  Sounds awfully subjective to me,” Fox retorted with an eyeroll, but could not deny the two a smile.  He joined them at the table, noticing for the first time that a collection of papers sat in a chaotic pile near Falco—very intentionally placed so that the popcorn bowl would conceal it from anyone walking by the lounge.  The vulpine’s eyes narrowed.  Falco chuckled guiltily, scooping the papers into an arm and dragging them away from their leader’s glare.

            “Falco,” Fox began accusingly, fighting back how the corners of his mouth threatened to give away a knowing smile. “What are you hiding?”

            “Noooooothing…” Falco said sweetly.

            “Oh, you can tell him, it’s all right,” Krystal waved a hand.

            “Falco…” Fox said, traces of a warning in his tone. Traces that hurtled him back to when he was a teenager and his father was growing cross at him. 

            “Oh, fine.  We got mail,” Falco shrugged, holding up envelopes that had very clearly already been broken into. 

            “Not this again,” Fox rubbed his forehead.

            _I should’ve seen this coming.  This always happens.  It even happened after the Sauria incident and General Pepper tried his best to cover that up.  The media always finds out.  And when the media finds out, the public finds out… And when the public finds out…_ The vulpine’s thoughts trailed down a dark path that he did not want to venture down.  He cast the door a sideways look, wishing he could just pretend like he had not overheard the two talking.  

            “Again?” Krystal quirked a brow.

            “Seems like this happens every time we save the world,” Falco replied.  “Everyone decides to send us fan mail.  Or er… well, whatever _some_ of this is.”

            “Falco,” Fox warned him again.  “ _Burn it_.”

            “Burn it?” Krystal tilted her head. “But why?”

            “Because _some_ of it can be a little…” Falco started, his mischievous smile speaking volumes that Krystal could evidently not comprehend, even with her Cerinian telepathy. “… _risqué_.”

            “How…?” the vixen frowned at him.

            “We have some… passionate admirers,” Fox intervened, wording it delicately.  “Ones that don’t really understand boundaries.”

            He could tell that she was processing everything he was saying to her, albeit with the speed of a tranquilized turtle.  If she had bothered to reach out to his mind, she would have understood instantly.  However, after their first mission, Krystal had sworn off such actions, understanding that it had made some teammates feel uncomfortable.  Instead, she sipped her water thoughtfully with a slight inquisitive head tilt.

            “Here, let’s read one,” Falco produced a letter.

            “No!” Fox disagreed with a vehement glare to the avian.  Regardless, Falco merely flashed his leader a smirk and opened the first envelope. 

            “This one is from Mary Lamb.  Awww, what a cute name.  She’s from Katina,” Falco announced.

Heaving a sigh, Fox relented.  Helpless, he prayed to any deity that could hear him that the letter was not directed towards the vixen.  She was not ready—he knew it in his heart.  She was still so innocent.  He melted into his chair with embarrassment already heating his cheeks.  Resting his chin on the tabletop, he cringed pre-emptively at what Falco was about to read to them.

            “ ‘ _Dear Team Star Fox.  Yesterday, my papa came home from the base.  He told me that he was so scared that he would never get to see me again.  He and Mama told me you guys fought the aparoids to keep Papa safe.  The aparoids are like bugs, Mama said.  Big, mean bugs.  Where I live, we swat bugs with our bug swatter.  I hope you did the same thing to the aparoids that attacked Papa’s work.  Thank you for saving my papa.  I love you all!_ ’  Awww, that’s really sweet, I think we should put this in our collection,” Falco grinned.

            “Our collection went down in flames with the Great Fox,” Fox reminded him.  _Along with just about the rest of our stuff… We’re lucky we could even get our hands on a refurbished carrier so quickly._

“Collection?” Krystal asked.

            “We used to keep all the ones that made us feel good.  You know for the… The less-bright days,” Falco shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. 

            “Well, regardless, the letter Mary sent was precious.  I can’t believe you wanted to _burn_ it,” Krystal side-eyed Fox. 

            “Oh, just wait,” Fox remarked sourly.  Falco smirked at him and slid him a bottle of cola.  The vulpine caught it before it made the plunge off the table’s sleek surface.  “Easy there.”

            “This one is from a ‘Bertha Boaros’.  Came from Papetoon and it’s addressed to Peppy,” Falco smirked. 

            “Should we call him?” Krystal asked.  “Wouldn’t he want to hear this?”

            “No, it’s best we don’t do that,” Fox said, ears off to the sides uncomfortably.

            “Why is that?” the vixen asked.

            “There’s a trend with letters for Peppy…” Fox began.

            “Let’s just see what this one says, shall we?” Falco asked and Krystal leaned in with interest.  Fox rubbed his forehead as the avian cleared his throat to begin reading.

            “ ‘ _To Peppy, my the man of my dreams, I want you to know there is nothing more that I crave than the feeling of you between my legs, making this old swine feel like a young woman again’_.”

            Krystal spat out her drink.  “Spirits above, _what!?”_

            “Yep, here we go,” Fox sighed.  _The crazy fanatics were bound to come out sooner or later…_

            Falco, cackling madly, lowered the letter and glanced at Fox. “Now _this_ one needs to be in our new collection.”

            “Absolutely not,” Fox retorted, unable to suppress a smirk. “You know he’d throw a fit if we did that.”

            “Let’s at least finish reading it,” Falco insisted and Fox found himself too curious to stop him.  The avian cleared his throat once more and plunged back into the passionate writing. “ _‘I longingly await you on Papetoon, where we can live out the rest of our lives between the sheets, drinking fancy wine and making the neighbors wonder with our screams.  Sincerely always yours, Bertha Boaros.  PS—I wanna pull on your ears when you cum into me.’_ The Peppy fangirls never cease to amaze me.”  He wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of his eye.

            “W-well… there is something to be said for a woman who knows what she wants,” Krystal said with a shrug.  “I applaud Bertha’s honesty, if anything.”

            “She’s honest all right,” Falco commented, putting the letter away and grabbing another one.  “Can you imagine what Pepster would do if he saw this?”

            “Do you think he would try to meet her?” Krystal asked, fingertip circling the rim of her glass. “I’m certain he’s been awfully lonely since… Well.  Vivian.”

            “I don’t think so,” Fox shook his head.  “He’d turn red as those mushrooms back on Sauria if he read this.”

            “Should we really be throwing this stuff away?” Krystal asked tentatively. “I mean, sure, we don’t know if Peppy would want to read that, but... it was meant for him, not for us…”

            “We’re doing him a favor by filtering these, trust me, Krys,” Falco waved a hand. “Anyways, here’s the next one.  It’s from a ‘Jason Harrier’ from Corneria and it’s to…” He paused, sapphire eyes falling upon the Cerinian vixen. 

            “Me?” Krystal asked, her ears flicking back.  “Oh… well, all right, let’s hear it.”

            “I don’t think she’s ready for…” Fox began in protest.        

            “No, no, I want to hear it,” Krystal said firmly with a nod of utter conviction.

            “Alrighty, let’s do this,” Falco started, unfurling the neatly creased letter.  “ ‘ _To Krystal, the newest member of Star Fox’_.”

            _Ugh, here it starts.  The endless love letters.  People wanting her to run off with them.  Is she really ready to hear stuff like that?  I kept the ones from before the invasion, when people would see glimpses of her and decide they were in love… I burned them all.  After losing her home, nearly losing her life, it just felt like too much…_

            Falco began into the heart of the letter.

            “ ‘ _I can’t believe Fox McCloud seriously let a girl onto the Star Fox team.  Wow, what is this social justice bullshit?  How is it that a girl from some backwater planet like Cerinia (is that even a real planet? L-M-A-O, never heard of it) gets to be on the Star Fox team, but I, an ace pilot since the age of thirteen and with a stunning, flawless record, don’t even get an interview?  Probably ‘cause I don’t have big tits!  The team’s really gone to shit.  Can’t wait for the next time Oikonny launches his dumb rebellion so you all can get shot to pieces.  Signed, Jason._ ’… Erm… well… that was…” Falco nervously glanced at Fox.

            The orange vulpine’s hand gripped the nape of his glass bottle with perilous ire but Krystal rested a hand on his forearm.  Instantly, Fox’s felt his temper quell, though a bitter expression lingered on his maw. The vixen looked to Falco with a simple shrug as her hand dug into the bucket of popcorn. 

            “He sounds _charming_ ,” the Cerinian replied lightly.

            “You’re not bothered?” Fox asked in surprise.

            “On Cerinia,” the blue vixen started, munching the popcorn in reflection. “Members of the Cerinian Order would often receive messages or inquiries.  Sometimes, it would be requests for aid.  Other times, it would be a desperate soul proposing marriage.”

            “Marriage?” Fox asked, brows raised.

            “Oh yes.  My elder sister was proposed to on a daily basis,” Krystal said nonchalantly. “Would you be surprised to hear that I’ve had to turn down many a man or woman before, Fox?” Stars of deviousness glittered in her eyes, a growing smirk crawling across her dainty muzzle.

            “Really?” Fox asked, unable to fight his intrigue.

            “Of course.  Sometimes, we would receive… _criticisms_ as well.  Especially from those we spurned,” Krystal flitted an ear to the side. “Anywho, next?”

            “You’re not bothered by this?” Fox asked, eyes stretched wide.

            “Of course not,” Krystal replied with the brisk shake of her head. “I don’t need to validate myself to some… _Jason Harrier_ of Corneria.”

            When they had finished their exchange and Krystal had settled back into her chair, Falco held up the next one.  “Next is… Ooh, this one’s to Fox.  I wonder what it says?”

            “This ought to be good,” Krystal said, winking at Fox, who sighed out his frustration.

            “Do your worst,” Fox rubbed his forehead.  Falco obliged, clearing his throat loudly.

 

            “ _‘To Fox McCloud, hero of the Lylat System,_

_Hi, I’m currently in the middle of a huge debate with my friends and you’re the only one that can settle this.”_

 

            “Oh geez, not again,” Fox sighed.

            “Oh?” Krystal asked. “Do you get asked to settle debates often?”

            “It’s usually about my legs,” Fox replied, his left ear swiveling to the side. 

            “Your… legs?” the vixen leaned in, clearly intrigued.  Her turquoise eyes danced over to his metallic boots. “Why is that?”

            “Someone told everyone that we all cut off our feet to fly planes,” Falco replied with a shrug. “It’s an old, old rumor.  I’m not sure where it even got started.  That sort of thing hasn’t been around in generations.”

            “How gruesome,” Krystal remarked. “Why don’t you just send pictures of your legs so people stop asking questions?”

            “Well, we did do that once…” Falco began, scarcely able to contain a laugh.

            “Falco…” Fox warned him.

            “What?” Krystal asked.

            “It ended up on a website…” Falco continued, side-eyeing Fox.

            “And that’s all you really need to know,” Fox cut in with a sigh. “Just… let’s see what this person wants.”

           

            _“I wanted to ask you what happened between you and Falco after the Lylat Wars.  Were you two d…d…”_

 

            Falco and Fox glanced at each other and the vulpine felt warmth rush into his cheeks.

            “Ah… Erm…” Fox scratched the back of his neck. 

            “Annnnnd moving on!” Falco announced, tossing the letter over his shoulder.  It fluttered to the floor near the trash bin. 

            “You don’t have to hide anything, you know,” Krystal remarked with a dainty sip of her water.

            _Falco and I… that seems like forever ago.  And sure, I think we’re both over it._   The vulpine snuck a glance back at the avian, who was hastily digging through the mail and waving Krystal off.  Fox felt his stomach swim with an assortment of feelings.  They tangled together in unfathomable knots.  _But our break up led to him leaving the team in the end.  He’d never admit it.  But I know it’s true.  I know Falco like the back of my hand.  That guy will say everything but what he really means._

            “I see,” Krystal was saying by the time Fox’s focus snapped back in.  Her raised brow and telltale smirk betrayed her amusement at the bird’s flustered behavior.  Fox could see she was hoping the avian would spill the beans—if only for further amusement, as he had no doubt she was able to sense his thoughts from where she was sitting. 

            “Besides, who wants to talk about _that_ when we could talk about…” Falco pulled a letter out of the pile, carefully holding it between two fingers. “This one!  It’s… from… Oh, it’s not signed.  Huh…feels like something’s inside the envelope. That’s either a bad sign or a good sign…”

            “You made sure to have ROB scan the mail for any explosives, right?” Fox asked.

            “Of course I did,” Falco replied in a high-pitched tone that did not invoke any confidence.

            “Falco…” Fox began.

            “If we all blow up, I’ll take the blame for it,” Falco said, opening the envelope with a thumb.  Fox winced instinctively.

            “I cannot sense anything malicious about this envelope,” Krystal stated.

            “So you can read the minds of inanimate objects now?” Falco asked as he pulled out a piece of folded paper and a small metallic hexagon.  The avian held the hexagon up to the light, squinting at it suspiciously.

            “I can sense lingering energies associated with items.  For instance, I know that you often frequent the fridge—a habit that would likely explain why Slippy was looking for his lunch a few hours ago.  And I know you feel quite passionate about a certain sock…”

            Fox snorted despite himself, covering his snout with a hand.

            “HEY!” Falco yelped. “Geez, low blow there.  I thought you said you weren’t gonna read minds on the ship!”

            “I said I wouldn’t read minds, yes.  I said nothing about energies,” Krystal’s lip curled as she took one last gulp of her water and rose from her chair.  She made for the sink, turning it on to wash her glass.  

            Flustered, the avian went back to fiddling with the hexagon that had been incased in the letter.  Fox felt his unease give way to apathy—a dulled emotion spurred by the onset of exhaustion.  The last few weeks had been trying at best.  With half-lidded eyes, the vulpine watched Falco activate the hexagon, a disgruntled frown written across his muzzle.  Chin propped up by a hand, his pupils chased the light emitting from the hexagon, watching as it rocketed upwards then spread to form a rectangular hologram screen.

            “A recording?” Fox asked Falco and the avian nodded quietly with raised brows.

            The screen flickered and suddenly the recording began, depicting the face of Pigma Dengar.  He was in a trenchcoat, its hue a fine beige that made Fox think he might have actually spent decent coin on it… or had simply pilfered it off of an unfortunate victim.  Pigma’s grin stretched from ear-to-floppy-ear.

 

_“Helloooooooooooo Star Fox Team!  By now, you’re probably all sad and lost, wondering where big bad Pigma went off to with this fancy-shmancy Aparoid Core Memory!”_

 

      The swine sidestepped the right, gesturing at the core, held within a large glass vial in the center of the room.  He gave a haughty, triumphant laugh.

 

_“It’s right here, you dimwits.  Go on, go on… try to nab it!  Heh!”_

 

            “Is this for real?” Falco asked.

            “Shh!” Krystal hushed him.

            Pigma’s laughed crescendoed until it seemed to boom off the walls and ceiling.  He slapped his own gut with a hand, gleefully sneering into the camera.  From beneath the coat, Fox could see his veins had turned turquoise, the skin around them blackened by aparoidedation.

_“No cake this time, just good ol’ me, Pigma.  And maybe a little clue ‘cause ya know I’d love to wipe the smug off yer face, Junior.  Meet me at Wolf’s joint—Sargasso.  Heh, y’know the place, I don’t gots ta tell ya where it’s at.  You know… he gave a reaaaaaaal loud scream before I shot his ass outta the sky.”_

 

            His pearly whites glistened menacingly.

 

_“But it wasn’t as loud as when I shot yer Daddy outta the sky!  Heh!  I’ll tell ya what, while yer waiting…”_

 

His hands began to undo the buttons of his trenchcoat.  Fox felt his fur bristle.

 

_“Maybe ya can stuff THIS Core into yer Memory!”_

 

            The trenchcoat came off.  Fox’s hand immediately went to Krystal’s eyes, trying his best to conceal her vision before the trench coat came off.  He tried to look away himself, but he found himself glancing at the exposed hog, who was shimmying gleefully back and forth and jutting his hips towards the camera.  Fox’s frown solidified and he stared straight at Krystal.

            “Fox?  What is it?” Krystal asked.  He felt a small push against his thoughts and prayed fervently she would stop prying.  Her shoulders tensed suddenly, and she let out a small “ _Oh._ ”

            “Turn it off, Falco!” Fox snapped.  He reluctantly looked back at the avian, who was frantically trying to turn off the message and evidently failing.

            “I don’t know how!” Falco said desperately.

            “Falco!” Fox yelled angrily.  “Do something!”

Falco’s hand snapped up the hexagon in an instant, chucking it across the room.  It slammed into the wall, shattering into pieces.  Pigma’s laughing ceased instantly.  A small dent was left over on the site of impact, blemishing the recent paint job.   Fox released the vixen, settling back in his chair.  His ears burned hot with second-hand embarrassment.  Krystal’s ears went back, turquoise eyes stretching wide.

            “Oh my,” Krystal murmured.

             “I think I’m gonna have to bleach my brain after that one,” Fox remarked.  He tossed Falco a glare. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let ROB scan the message.”

            “How was I supposed to know that we were gonna see Pigma’s---” Falco began.

            “Falco!” Fox snapped.

            “Well, that’s certainly been in our mailbox for awhile,” Krystal said. “A pity, we didn’t get this until after we dealt with the Aparoid Queen.”

            “It’s a pity we got this at all,” Fox said sourly.

            “Geesh, that was scarier than when he was a fully-fledged aparoid,” Falco replied.  “Well, looks like that’s the end of the mail.  We do have some advertisements if you wanna look through these.”  The avian carelessly slid the ads towards Fox and walked over to the pantry.  He pulled out a broom and dust pan.

            Though his green eyes wandered down to the assortment of advertisements, Fox felt the desire to do anything but look at more mail.  He glanced at Krystal, whose mouth was curling upward in amusement, and placed his hand atop hers. As his fingers ran to the crevices between hers, he drew in a deep breath.

            “I think I’m good for now, Falco,” Fox answered. “I should probably get to the deck anyways.  ROB’s been up there long enough, I wanna make sure he didn’t short-circuit and send us the wrong way.”

            “I think I’ll go with you,” Krystal replied, standing up. “I’ve done enough sitting about.”

            “Oh sure, leave me to clean up the mess,” Falco scowled at the two from where he was sweeping away the remnants of Pigma’s message.  The avian gave a shudder. “Gonna have that stuck in my head for a bit…”

            Fox and Krystal departed the lounge, fingers intertwined.  The metallic hallway widened, opening up into a larger corridor that led to the central command deck.  Short windows hung midway up the walls, displaying the open space outside of the Great Fox II.  Other than the stars, Fox could see nothing in the eternal darkness of space.  They still had a long ways to go before they made it to Sauria. 

            A tug on his hand alerted him and he stopped midway down the hall.  He turned, glancing back at the vixen.  Eyes glittering intently, Krystal pecked Fox on the cheek with a brief kiss.  He felt his fur and skin light up with nerves where she touched him. 

            “What was that for?” Fox asked sheepishly.

            “For trying to shield me from… Well, you know,” Krystal chuckled.  “I appreciate it, Fox.”

            “You’re welcome,” Fox replied with a grin.  He wrapped his arm around her waist, nuzzling his nose against her neck.  Moments of quiet like this were rare on the Great Fox—there were simply too many prying eyes.  He thought to pull her in close for another kiss but contented himself with rubbing his face against her cheek.  His eyes closed for a brief, cursed moment—enough time for the image of Pigma’s bouncing private bits to flash across his mind’s eye.  Fox immediately released the vixen, cringing visibly.

            “What’s wrong?” Krystal asked.

            “Nothing.  Let’s check on ROB,” Fox said quickly and the two of them disappeared into the command room.


End file.
